


These Mutant Kids (Fused at the Wrist)

by campbellsoup



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/campbellsoup/pseuds/campbellsoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all have guns for hands,<br/>and we never put the safety on.<br/>We trade in our thumbs for ammunition,<br/>and all join hands.<br/>We put our fingers to our heads,<br/>and try, try to sleep.<br/>There's hope out the window,<br/>it will never happen again.</p><p>   It will never happen again</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Mutant Kids (Fused at the Wrist)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [These Mutant Kids (Fused at the Wrist)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725889) by [allonsysouffle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsysouffle/pseuds/allonsysouffle). 



> first, nothing in this (poem i think?) is mine, it's all written by the amazing allonsysouffle, who gave me permission to arrange their words

Lingering touches on a locker

and the muscle memory of a number

you'll only have to remember a couple more times.

 

Flipping through notebooks

full of information

that'll never get memorized.

 

Everything being stripped away

so quickly and quietly,

and no one knew.

 

He stood on the cusp of his own black hole,

and  _wasn't it beautiful?_

 

The teacher kept looking at him funnily

all through history.

Michael wondered if he knew,

somehow.

 

No one really noticed his silence.

Good thing because

he didn't have the energy to lie.

 

Everyone said goodbye

hastily and hurriedly

barely looking back at him.

 

The things you notice on your last day.

 

He walked home without looking both ways.

The streets were empty

but he wouldn't have cared if they weren't.

 

He wiped the tears off with his shirt

and breathed in and out

in and out

and it was fine.

He was dying,

but he was  _fine._

 

There was nothing left for him.

Everything was said and done.

 

It was just pills.

Just powder.

one, two, seven, nine, sixteen,

and he was already gone.

 

Another, though, and another,

and he lay frozen,

losing consciousness on the bathroom floor

 

Acid burned hot and dry in his throat,

but the dark spots that danced

in his clouded vision

were beautiful. _  
_

 

And he was finally,

truly escaping.

 

Now all that was left

was the waiting for it to hit

and for him to sleep.

 

The cold tiles were not a nice pillow

but at least it was something.

It was as close to peace as he could get.

 

His brain was screaming.

Then, the blackness.

 

He started counting from zero.


End file.
